Day 5: White Nights and Onion Domes

Reverb Broad’s 2011 Day 5 question: What is the one thing you finally did this year that you always wanted or said you were going to do, but in your heart of hearts never thought you would actually do?

I was enchanted from the first moments of the first musical number. I wanted to see the snowy domes and dance around in the streets singing about the lost Russian Royal princess. I wanted to see this seemingly enchanting country. I wanted to experience St. Petersburg. I blame it on the movie Anastasia.

What I know about Russian history could fit into one page of a notebook. All I remember from my history classes is my eclectic teacher raving about the “onion domes” and the dangers of the “Russian water” all of the Soviet leaders relied on (aka vodka). What I learned from the animated movie was that the Russian Royal family was screwed over by a wizard, the city of St. Petersburg was beautiful and that the palaces were full of secrets. That’s all I needed for my teenage self to add “visit Russia” to my Bucket List.

I never thought it’d happen. Russia would never be a place I’d intentionally seek out while planning a trip abroad. I’d be much more inclined to go to the UK or Italy or Fiji. Someplace more, uh, tourist friendly. Someplace where there’s a chance that people spoke the language. Russia was barely a blip on the radar. Until it wasn’t.

Last year the VP of my school announced a May-term trip and my heart lurched. I needed to be a part of it. I yearned for the onion domes and to find a Dimitri of my own. After a few conversations and a lot of hours spent recruiting, I received the best Christmas gift of all in December of last year–news that I’d be accompanying the students to Moscow and St. Petersburg in May 2011.

Palaces! History! Singing in the streets!

Twelve of us ventured to the former Soviet Union unsure of what we’d find. The first few days were rough–trying to get on a sleep cycle while fighting jet lag and figuring out what Russian cuisines our stomachs could handle was no easy task. Our first morning in Moscow, we learned that Russians ate lunch meats for breakfast, fried their pancakes and had a lot of boiled foods. We quickly realized that nobody understood English and those who knew what language we spoke sneered at us. I panicked when I discovered that the crash course we’d received on the Russian alphabet was not enough. Being thrown into a country with a wildly different language is sink or swim. I began rehearsing phrases and words with my roommate every night in order to better help the group out.

But the adversity was worth it when, on the second day, our tour bus took us past the Kremlin with its gleaming towers and oblique domes. I gasped at my first sight of the Onion Domes then promptly pinched myself. Was this my life? Was I seriously in Moscow with the Kremlin mere yards in front of me? Is this for real?!? I couldn’t believe that something I’d dreamed about over a dozen years prior had actually manifested itself in such an awe-inspiring way.

The feelings of wonder stayed throughout the trip. I’d be walking through a palace admiring the intricate gilding of a ballroom and suddenly stop because I was standing in a ballroom where royals once waltzed. At the famous Hermitage I was inches from works by Picasso and Michelangelo and struck by the beauty of Rubens’ work. Strolling down the streets of St. Petersburg with students at midnight felt like a dream, not only because of the location but also because of the soft haze of twilight as the city was at the beginning of its early summer’s White Nights, where the sun doesn’t set until at least midnight each night.

Even now, six months later, the trip still feels like a dream. There were plenty of challenges with being abroad but I would have gladly scaled a hundred more brick walls because the trip was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I would do it all again. The whole experience has me re-evaluating my Bucket List. If I can conquer Russia, what else lies waiting for me to discover?

Green Grass Grows

The air was warm and the top to the Mustang GT was down. Soon we were zipping down the country highway, the rough wind whipping my hair everywhere. I could feel the late evening air on my bare arms as I stretch them into the sky and laughed. Tim McGraw lyrics blasted through the stereo’s speakers:

“I’m gonna live where the green grass grows
Watch my corn pop up in rows…
Plant our dreams where the peaceful river flows
Where the green grass grows…”

Fields of corn and acres of farmland surrounded me as the music swirled in my mind.  I felt happy. Centered. Free. No worries clouded my mind. Right in the middle of Missouri, in a convertible with my best friend, as we navigated the narrow road to a county fair on a hot July night, I was whole. Beautiful. Magic.  The whole sky seemingly stretched before me with glittering stars and a full, orange moon–it was simply perfect. I felt infinite. The world was mine. My life is truly charmed.

Miss Michigan

 

I miss Michigan. I miss it so much sometimes that there’s a palpable ache within me. On gorgeous summer days I long to be sitting on Lake Superior’s shore, feeling the breeze on my face. On days when I long from my college friends, I ache to be at Flanigans, singing cheesy 80s and 90s tunes with them while pounding really bad mix drinks and cheap beer. And any time anyone I know announces their return to the UP I feel a tinge of jealousy because Michigan is such a major part of who I am. Lake Superior has my heart, Marquette inspires my soul and the state fulfills me in ways I never thought it could while I was living there.

This is in no way comprehensive, but at the moment here are some of the things I’m yearning for:

• The small stretch of beach near Presque Isle that I call my own, though it is in no way private
• Flanigans, for karaoke simultaneously soothes my soul and fires me up and I have a major craving to bust out my version of “Baby Got Back”
• My family–I miss them so much
• Mackinac Island Fudge–the candy and the ice cream
• Good Michigan wine from the Traverse wine country (especially a late harvest Reisling)
• Seeing NMU and/or MSU tshirts and memorabilia everywhere
• The Whiskey Barrel, for I want to get my line dancing groove on and that was my sanctuary in grad school
• Border Grill and Togos–my official food sponsors during my NMU years
• Sunsets over Lake Superior
• My friends from MSU and NMU

Happily, I’m heading back to my home state next week for an adventure with a Spartan friend. Coincidentally, there will be a reunion happening in Marquette around the time I’ll be there, so some glory days will be relived and much celebrating will be done on this vacation. My soul will be restored and I’ll return to Minnesota (far inferior to Michigan, in my humble opinion) content and satistifed. I miss Michigan. I cannot wait to return, if only for a small time.

Postcards from Russia: Ballet

I am completely ruined as far as ballet goes.

Let me explain. I love the arts. Love them. I jump at any chance I get to see a play, musical, dance or art performance or exhibition of any kind. Seeing creativity in any form inspires me. I live for So You Think You Can Dance because of the gorgeous dances the world-famous choreographers create for the show. Yet, with all of the shows and experiences I’ve had, I’d never seen a ballet before. So when it was mentioned that our group could see a ballet when in St. Petersburg, the entire group collectively gasped then squealed.

Ballet. In Russia. It was a no-brainer. Of course we’d be interested in seeing a performance. As with everything else on the trip, we knew this would be a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. I personally was excited to experience a new art form. It didn’t even phase me that we were watching The Nutcracker in June. All I cared about was that I was seeing a Russian performance of the art form the culture perfected. I knew it’d be good.

What I wasn’t prepared for was how overwhelmed I’d be from the whole experience. The theater was a renovated, world-famous stage complete with chandeliers, gilded box seats and vibrant murals spanning the ceilings. Our seats were in the first balcony, center, with a perfect panoramic view of the entire stage. The orchestra’s full sound bounced through the whole venue, filling every corner with the lush sounds of Tchaikovsky’s holiday masterpiece. I could see the brilliant detail on each dancers’ colorful costume, from the ruffles, lace and buttons to the sequins and petticoats.  The sets were simple, yet tasteful and whimsical.

Of course the real pleasure lay in the choreography and the sheer talent of the dancers. For most of the second act my mouth was open in awe and amazement. The principal dancers were stunning. Their jumps had them soaring across the stage, the lifts looked effortless and like the women were touching the heavens. The solos were magical and transported me to a fairy tale land where toys come alive and little girls can become princesses through strength, kindness and bravery. (And then they get to dance brilliant solos wearing tiaras and sparkly tutus!) The chorus line dancers moved with ease, grace and agility together in long lines. The talent exploded from the stage and left me shivering because every well-executed step gave me chills.

About fifteen minutes into the ballet, I had an epiphany. I was so blessed–I was watching people’s dreams coming true  in front of me. Each of the people on that stage had worked (probably) their entire life to lace up their shoes and leap across that stage. Every single one of those dancers trained for years in preparation for the moment I was experiencing. I was literally watching their dreams and goals coming to life. It was a powerful and profound moment. I felt honored to be witnessing their talents unfold, to see them share their gifts with everyone in that magnificent theater.

I am so lucky that I was able to experience the world-renowned Russian ballet. It was an unforgettable experience that gives me chills even thinking about it now, almost two weeks later. My experience was so good that I’m now ruined for any other performance I may see in my life. I’ll still appreciate it and love it, I’m sure. Other ballet experiences will pale in comparison to this one. But as far as dance goes? I prefer the Russian ballet, thanks.

Postcards from Russia: Language

By the time the fourth day in Moscow rolled around, I thought  was a Russian language genius. I could say three phrases really well: “hello” (pronounced “pre-vi-et”), “thank you” (pronounced “spa-cee-ba”) and “I love you” (pronounced “yah-lu-blue-voss”). “Hi! I love you! Thank you!”  Brilliant! I could take on the world with those three phrases!

In reality, I could never have anticipated how hard the language barrier would be.  I knew I was going outside of my comfort zone by traveling to a country that didn’t feature English as its main language. I’d never done that before; I knew it would be challenging. My comfort lay in knowing that there were ten other women who didn’t know Russian either. We’d had a crash course on the Cyrillic alphabet, but that was about it. We were wandering into unknown territory, language-wise. We knew this.

We all assumed that many people would speak English. Perhaps that was a privileged, American assumption to make. But it was a bit disorienting to find ourselves in a foreign country and have the sudden realization that not even the hotel front desk staff could say as much as hello to us. To be surrounded by signs that were shrouded in a seemingly secret code was both frustrating and exciting. The first couple of days were scary as hell because of the language barrier. Food was ordered mostly through pointing (or relying on our native Russian professor). Items were paid for by the cashier pointing at the ruble total on the screen with little interaction beyond that. We assumed that we knew what we were eating…and not always to our benefit. At one point  I inhaled what I thought to be Cheetos. They were, but they were ketchup flavored.  But by the third day I had an epiphany: I’m immersed in this crazy, wonderful and sometimes scary culture, why not make the best of it and learn as much as possible? I began looking at signs as codes I could break. I willingly ate whatever I thought looked good, which is how I discovered bacon-flavored chips, salty caviar, flaky chicken pierogies fresh from the oven and creamy passionfruit-mango popsicles called Mini Me’s. And I tried to engage Russians in conversation, though most of them gave me disgusted looks when I told them in their tongue that I couldn’t speak their language. Russian people are cranky–I give myself points for at least trying.

By the end of the trip I’d picked up more than a few phrases to use in conversation. But I also came away from the trip with the goal and determination to truly learn the Russian language, because it’s both complex and beautiful. I want to master the language and return to stunning St. Petersburg to soak as much up as possible. In the mean-time I have the realization that the only three phrases that I truly do need to know and use in life are “hello, I love you, thank you”.  Connect, be grateful and express emotion–that’s what is truly important, no matter what language one speaks. What else can one girl need in order to fully engage in this wonderful world?